


Fire and Damnation

by MedusaOblongata_IreMaiden



Series: Curse My Magic [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Morning Sex, Moustache rides, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, boobs, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7436092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedusaOblongata_IreMaiden/pseuds/MedusaOblongata_IreMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hush now," she hums against his toned abs, dragging her finger off his lips to join the others tugging down his leggings, "I want you in my mouth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Damnation

Sleep did not come easy for Cullen that night. He lay on his back, one hand under his head, the other resting on Evelyn's back, her body curled into him. His mind bounced from trauma to trauma: recounting the lives lost the day before, the sight of the Inquisitor lying lifeless on the ground, the strangling grip of electrifying death. He closed his eyes trying to remember the moment it released him, the moment his vision focused and he saw the Venatori spell binder collapse before him, impaled by a bloodied longsword. _Who killed him_? He squeezed his eyes tighter, scrunching his brow, delving into the fuzzy memory. Small bloodied hands, shaking, release the grip, left one cracked and glowing green. His eyes shoot open and her name escapes his lips "Evelyn." _I thought they knocked her out, perhaps they did, she's truly a fighter. And now weilding swords? Most impressive_. He looked down at her sleeping figure then at the marks on his chest, tracing the scabbed lines with his eyes. _I spent most of today sleeping off these injuries, it's no wonder I'm restless. Still, they healed swiftly, almost as if by -_ "magic." The word tumbled from his mouth like a curse. He dropped his head to the bedroll and pushed his hand into his brow, rubbing his temples, "You're an idiot." He tilted his head to stare at the heap of inquisitor wrapped in his arm. He pulled her in a little tighter, half expecting to discover she wasn't there at all, but rather just a trick of the mind.  
  
He had sometimes imagined what it might feel like to hold her this way, but the reality was vastly different. He felt hollow, shallow, guilty. Even touching her, even with her face pressed into his side and arm draped over his waist, he felt far away. _She looked after me , she healed me, and I hurt her. I HURT HER. I said terrible things. I stole her magic. I shoved her in the dirt. AND STILL, she trusted me with EVERYTHING. I don't know which of us is more broken._

...

When something stirs beside him, his eyes fly open. Groggy, sleep-hazed mind churning through the momentary 'where am I' panic. He glances around the cave. With the fire reduced to hot ash a chill has set in causing Evelyn to press tighter against him. A few dusty beams of pink sunlight are peaking in through the door. His shoulders go lax as he releases the tight breath he had been holding and lets his head fall to the bed roll. He slowly turns towards the mussed and matted hair spooled over his arm and presses a cheek into the frock on his shoulder. She's a blend of warm, familiar scents; elfroot and leather; split wood and campfire. He eyes the soft lines of her face, following the curve of a wayward strand tossed over her cheek. Reaching over, he lightly brushes it towards her ear so he can admire her serene state. Her chin is tucked under his ribs, casting her mouth in shadow, though he can still make out the dry cracks splitting her fleshy lips; the chapped outline a bright wash of red. He rubs his thumb over them, feather light, wishing he had a soothing balm to spread across her skin; to feel her hot breath under his smoothing caress; to spin soft silk from blood red flesh. _Would she even allow such a gentle touch? Would she scoff and mock such tender notions?_ He swallows loudly and shifts his hips away from her frame, horror stricken as he realizes the urgent early-morning situation tented in his hastily fastened trousers. He steals a glance at her lashed lids, praying they remained closed as he tries to slip his arm out from under her.

"Mmmmhmm..." she mumbles sleepily. He raises her head and removes his arm, slowly untangling it from her furious tresses, "...Cullen..."

He stills, breath hitched, _please don't wake up_ , he watches her roll further into him. Her cuddling is relentless: nuzzling her face deeper into his side, twining her fingers in the fabric at his waist, wrapping her thigh around his leg and pulling their bodies flush. She is burying herself in furs and man, and Maker be praised, he is that man. Her knuckles dig into his hip bone where she pulls his leggings towards her chest, adding pressure to the already sensitive denizen and causing him to bite back a betraying whimper. An icy foot snakes up his pant leg seeking shelter from the cold, and his mouth falls open in shock: the gutteral, traitorous murmurs he's been holding back finally escape, shattering the silent air. He feels her tense around him and he screws his eyes shut in dread, _FIRE AND DAMNATION._ He waits breathlessly for her body to finally ease, exhaling his relief as the rustling beside him ceases. It is, however, short lived. She soon stirs again; the grip on his waistband loosening and her hair pulling away from his hand as she moves further south. Her lips press softly into the jutting bone of his hip, chin resting on the fingers still clutching leather. He sucks in sharply, a quick wisp of air lightly hissing between his teeth, and he feels her smile against his skin. Questing fingers trace along the waist of his breeches. Desire and honor battle in his throat as he tries to form words, "Evelyn, you don't need to -" her long, nimble fingers suddenly press into his lips, slender arm stretched out from under her fur canopy, persistent lips raking along his abdomen. A shudder rushes through his spine, spiking the hair on his arms and sparking a jolty twitch through his toes.

"Hush now," she hums against his toned abs, dragging her finger off his lips to join the others tugging down his leggings, "I want you in my mouth."  
Cullen's jaw drops and he feels his cock lunge forward. She feels it too. A whisper soft chuckle dances over his skin, followed by a soothing, "Relax." She runs her tongue along the light trail of hair at his navel while peeling away his only layer, pressing open mouth kisses into each inch she reveals. The last traces of her hair disappear under the furs as she slides further down, rucking her robes up to her knees. Her every touch is a mystery, completely hidden from his sight. Anticipation prickles his skin as he watches her shape rise, climbing to all fours and crawling into the space between his legs. She paws at his trousers and he riggles side to side, nails etching red grooves as she drags them down his dimpled derriere. Cullen's breath stutters. One final tug sends him springing upward, breeches cast aside, smooth tip grazing fur and hide then slapping against his own flesh.

Evelyn laces her fingers around his thickest point and applies pressure to the bulging purple vein. Her other hand eagerly pulling at the strings of her bodice, loosening her robes until her nipples barely peek over the fabric. When she bends over more fully, she's practically spilling over. _Perfect_. She licks her thumb and forefinger, plucking at the rosy peaks until they grow angry and stiff, simultaneously stroking his shaft with slow, heavy pressure. With one final pinch, she abandons her hardened nubs and rubs her moistened finger along the slit of his crown. He jumps at the unexpected touch, but quickly adjusts, audibly approving as she spreads the slick preamble across his swollen dome. Evelyn presses a chaste kiss to the underside of his helm, lips lingering along the ridge, listening for his muffled reaction. He does not disappoint. Cullen's fingers dig into the bedroll on either side of him, his hips lifting, he groans like an animal deprived a meal.

Smiling into his erection, Evelyn runs a slow, deliberate tongue around the base of his round head, then sinks over his entire member with no further warning. Cullen's hips buck into her mouth, striking the back of her throat in painful abrasion. He cries out and she chokes, wincing a moment while she adjusts her angle, then takes his entirety a second time, firm lips squeezing tight at the base of his shaft and eliciting a "Maker, Yes!" from overhead. She stays for a moment, then withdraws slowly, bobbing her head leisurely and hollowing her cheeks on a shallow mouthful while catching her breath, thick furs now creating a strangling heat. She leans forward further and nests his shaft into her cleavage, a few beads of sweat running for the valley. A muffled gasp breaks through the furs, strong legs stiffen and knees lock on either side of her. Her lips curl into a wicked smile, gingerly holding his bulbed tip. Lusting fingers grow more needy, squeeze harder, push tighter, fold her thicker around him. She fights off her grin and closes her mouth around him, flitting a tongue against the curvature where he'd been cut as a babe. She tests him, sinking slowly, chest and mouth in unison, until her chin and breasts compress. He's mumbling something incoherent, she can't focus her hearing, preoccupied by the heat on her face and salt on her tongue. She moves back up, just as slow, halting right before he'd slip away. Again, she dips, a little faster, still wary of sticking to him. She slides along successfully, kneading her firm breasts and swallowing him down. Suddenly the hides and furs are thrown off, cool air sweeps over her, bristling her skin. She is looking up at him: her green eyes wide and unblinking, glistening cheeks glowing hot pink, cock buried deep in her throat, hands grappling with swollen breasts hugging his thick shaft. He is up on his elbows, his honey brown eyes thin ringlets around two lust-blown pupils, penetrating and paralyzing. "I want to watch," he finally musters, and she has to clench her legs together to hold in the tides of arousal.

She draws her head back, keeping her eyes locked on him, and sinks down a third time, faster, further, fuller. His mouth falls open and she rolls her jaw and tongue against him, teasing out the moans she longs to hear. His eyes drop to her cleavage, hers darting to the task at hand. She picks up the pace, an ache developing in her neck, she soldiers on, head tucked and chest out, sucking and thrusting to the heightened pace of her thudding heart. She rocks in circles: leaning down and in, in and up, up and out, pushing herself against his rigid length. She slips a hand under her robes, longest fingers circled her buzzing clit. Slick want runs down her inner thigh, two dipping fingers scoop it up and return to her clit with need and heat and speed. Her body pulsates, wanton moans slip out from around his throbbing pulse. He is getting close, knuckles white against the bed roll, engorged head too large for her mouth. Spit dribbles down her chin, running towards his shaft and drips onto her flushed mounds. Her need is too great, her knees quake, she aches to be touched. She releases her chest and sinks a finger into her sopping crevice, still sore from yesterday's machinations. Her breasts fall away, she dives down to the base of his volcanic pike; a chain reaction that sends his torso lurching forward with a deep growl, a massive hand weaves into her thick, wavy hair, guiding her up and down. He leans back onto his free arm, rippling biceps holding him steady and setting the pace for the tantalizing show before him. A series of appreciative and encouraging murmurs grace her ears as she works her tongue and jaw against his length, growing louder with his boldness, firm grip pushing her head deeper, holding her down longer, twisting her hair tighter. He gets lust drunk watching her hands rotating between her legs, watching her elegant jaw savoring him like she's enjoying a delicate morsel. He pushes her head down and holds her in place, eyes widening as her face grows red, then a thrust, and another.

Evelyn's eyes clamp shut. She can't breathe. He's taken control. He's fucking her throat! He's taken control, she can't breathe and she fucking loves it! She relaxes her shoulders and shoves a second finger into her throbbing cunt, hips bucking against her own hand while Cullen pumps into her gaping mouth. Her eyes are squeezed tight and watering, colorful star bursts dancing on the back of her eyelids. Her head is swimming, light and heavy, waves of pleasure rushing over her while she grinds two fingers in furious circles against her clit. Sound dulls around her, even Cullen's exasperated grunts sound distant. He hits the back of her throat, dizzying sensations flutter in her skull, and she tastes the first drops of bitter seed. Humming appreciatively, she laps at him and swallows down the hot spurt of sticky rope raging from his fevered body. He pulls her off of him abruptly, tugging her up by the hair and laying her face-up on his lap. She's coughing for air, hands at her sore throat, body aching with unfulfilled desires. She stares at him, head still buzzing, but sound returning and fuzzy edges becoming sharp once more.

"You," it's all he manages to say between panting for air and tossing her, squealing, onto her belly into the pile of furs. Two large hands sliding up her thighs, shoving her robes to her waist, calloused fingertips gripping her hips and yanking her backwards to her knees, then sinking into fleshy cheeks and pulling them apart. He drops to his knees behind her and slips his tongue into her hot center before she even knows whats going on; a wail and his name flying from her tongue and bouncing off the walls. He smirks, basking in the sound, and nuzzles deeper into her, looking for the next cry. He runs his tongue along her split, all the way to pink puckered hole, swirling and flicking and sucking as she shudders above him and he hears his name again, hoarse and tentative. He moves a hand towards her slick entrance, tracing the outside with firm touch before sinking two fingers into her quivering core. "I'm so close, Cullen,  please." He growls and softly bites her round cheek, removing his fingers in place of a thick thumb and sending the slickened fingers to work on her pronounced nub. She's already achingly needy, it won't take much to send her over the edge, but he wants to wait, to make her crash and quiver and shake. So he prolongs it. Fingers skating over her clit, making contact, but never enough, and he continues to tease her backside with his tongue. She clenches around him, walls tightening on his thumb, thighs tightening on his head, fisting the furs and stifling her moans and curses.

"Let me hear you, Evelyn," he pleads between licks and laps and nibbles moving from hole to hole and eveywhere in between. "Let me hear you say you like it."

"YES!" She cries lifting her head from the furs and arching her back. "Fucking Yes, Cullen! No one has ever made me feel like this!"

He's lost to her now; kissing praises into her fleshy lips and pink opening, fingers swirling and flexing until she finds release. "Maker, you are beautiful."

"Cullen!"

"Perfect. Stunning."

"FUCK."

"Goddess."

"I'm coming!"

Cullen feels her inner walls spasm on his finger, her knees trembling, whole body tensing. Her quaking legs give out and she falls the short distance forward, slipping out of his hands. He crawls up her back, pressing kisses to several robed points along the way, smiling at the twitches that respond. She's heaving into the animal skins, eyes lightly lidded, slight smile stitched to her face. He lies on his side next to her, head in hand, and kisses her bare shoulder. Her body doesn't jerk in response this time; instead, sated eyes flutter open to drink him in.

"Thank you," she hums after a few deep sighs, "that was amazing. I've never done that before."

"I've never had anyone rutt against me with their chest before," he laughs, then looks concerned, "no one's ever _kissed you_  'there' before?"

"No!" she cackles, "or yes, I meant the other... Well, let's just say I've had my share of moustache rides." Cullen frowns; an unsettling image of his inquisitor perched demurely atop Stroud's face sears into his skull. He tries to shake it out while she's still talking. "In the circle, in mine at least, oral play was really big. We sort of pretended it didn't break any Chantry rules, since we weren't _technically_ having sex." She nods toward their previous location adding, "How do you think I learned to do that?" His frown grows deeper and her lips turn down, mirroring his; her brows coming together in confused scrutiny. Then it hits her - _he doesn't like hearing about me with other men_. She searches her mind for something to say, anything to fix his broken face. "Did I ever tell you about the year that I spent in the company of a lovely mage named Arianna?" _That changed his expression_!

His eyes light up, wide and disbelieving, and just like that * **poof** * Stroud is gone, replaced with flowing hair, sweeping lashes, and high cheek bones. Long, slender limbs and rolling curves. Cullen feels an unbidden warmth creeping up his neck and cheeks.

" _Oh_ ,  _dear_ ," Evelyn playfully teases, "Good Sir Cullen, are you _blushing_?!" His face beams crimson as she buries her gleeful laughter (and entire mouth) in the furs beneath her. After a few moments looking quite ashamed, her contagious chortle spreads; his mouth twitches into a smirk and a warm chuckle forces itself through his teeth. She reigns in her laughter and props herself up on her elbows, smiling wistfully, "I must say," her voice thick with honey, "she wasn't nearly as talented as you."

Cullen feels heat rising in his cheeks again, but gives it no pause. He tackles Evelyn with as much force as he can muster from his lazy pose. Shrieking laughter and deep, amber chuckles fall together, rolling and tumbling amongst furs and leathers and hides. He lands on his back on the cool, weathered bed roll, smoldering mage pressed into his chest.

Burgundy hair cascades from her head, framing her smiling face. He reaches out and sweeps it back, tucking it behind her ear and cradling her jaw in his palm. She leans into him, soft lips wrapping warmly around his own, humming into the kiss.

When they part, she rests her head on his chest, lounging atop him peacefully. "I think I should have asked for a transfer to Ostwick," he smiles.

"No," she softly sighs, "you'd have been no fun at that time. Probably sent me to solitary for illicit behavior." She smirks up at him with heavy lids, "this is better."

They hold each other, just breathing, and Evelyn drifts into a light sleep. She's stirred awake by the jerking of the restless body beneath her. Carefully slipping away, she comes around to kneel above his head and places her hands on either temple. She concentrates on all the wonderful things she has felt or seen or heard over the last few days, summoning the proper energies. With a twitch, the familiar freshness of healing magic thrums between her hands, passing through his temples. His features soften, his muscles relax, and his breathing falls into a steady rythym. Satisfied, she backs away, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and covering Cullen in a fur. She creeps out of the cave into the early morning, stretching, soaking up the warm rays, and grinning like a fool.

"Always did like me some Templar," she says aloud in a disbelieving and defeated tone, eyes rolling into the back of her skull and head shaking slightly side to side. She looks down at her hands and lets out a gruff sigh, the irony of it all too much to stand, "fucking magic."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, Comments and Constructive criticism always welcome and appreciated. ❤ Dusa


End file.
